Just A Look
by Adurna Skulblaka
Summary: A few glances here and there are all it takes for Tony to accidentally find himself falling for Steve.


**Author's note: Credit has to be given here to my friend, who gave me some help and ideas here and there for parts of this fic. Thank you so much, friend :) You know who you are. **

* * *

The first time it happens, it knocks the breath out of Tony.

The Avengers have just returned from a mission, battered and bruised but successful, and are on their way to report the total damage done (by accident, of course). Tony's walking along beside the team, the helmet of his suit held under his arm, and Steve just happens to glance across and smile at him.

Steve looks a bit dishevelled – which is only to be expected, he's been running around for hours now, and even _Captain America_ is going to look ruffled after that – and he just… smiles.

Tony blinks. Pauses. Tries to breathe.

Steve claps him on the shoulder – Tony can feel it even through his suit – and says, "Nice job today, Stark."

And that's it. That's all it is. Steve nods and catches up with the rest of the Avengers, while Tony follows at a slower pace wondering what the hell just happened.

"Sir?" the familiar voice of JARVIS says from the helmet. "Sir, I am detecting a sudden change in your heart rate-"

"Shut up, JARVIS, or I'll turn you into a talking coffee machine."

Steve doesn't look his way again during the talking-to they get from Fury, and that's just fine. Tony doesn't linger on it either – he puts it down to the adrenaline that's still in his system and the fact that Steve actually complimented him instead of criticising him for once.

With the ease of practice, Tony shrugs it off.

* * *

It's a few weeks before something similar happens again, and this time Tony doesn't even expect to see Steve this day.

Despite the Iron Man suit's strength, Tony still needs and prefers to keep in shape. It's another way to occupy himself, to keep him busy when he's not tinkering away down in the workshop. The gym at the SHIELD headquarters - Stark Tower, obviously - is full of the latest and most durable sports equipment; with people like Captain America around, it all has to be built to last.

Naturally, Tony had a hand in the design of it all.

Tony's boxed with Happy many times over, usually winning each time but every now and again Happy manages to land a few hits. They're normally during the weeks where Tony hasn't been sleeping as much, the ones where he's been squirreled away with only JARVIS and AC/DC for company. It's also a good way for Tony to relieve his stress when a project hasn't been going particularly well.

It just so happens to be one of those days. Poor Happy has to stay on the defensive; Tony ducks and weaves, throws punches like his life depends on it – which it doesn't, this time. Despite the fact that he's melting from the heat, Tony has his jumper on and his hood up, something that others just shake their heads at.

Each to their own.

"Alright, alright!" Happy holds his gloves in front of his face in surrender, beating a hasty retreat to avoid a sharp jab.

"Aw, come on, Happy," Tony complains. He straightens out of his half-crouch, rolling his shoulders. "You're not crying for mommy, are you?"

"No, I'm taking a break." Happy levels a frown at him. "You're not gonna do so well so easily next time."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Remind me of what you said when I'm the one still standing." Tony turns away to get his drink.

And promptly stops dead, the remainder of his pent-up aggression sliding away.

The sight that greets him sticks a lump in his throat that he can't swallow past.

Steve has a habit of going for a run once a day and usually comes back without seeming to have broken a sweat, but today's summer high is a little above average, and it shows. There's a thin sheen of sweat on Steve's skin, just enough for Tony to notice.

It would be just Tony's luck that Steve's gaze connects with his when he can't look away.

Only, it doesn't really seem to be a problem. Steve's eyes widen just a tad and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but then something soft taps Tony firmly on the back of the head. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Happy's returned and is waiting impatiently.

"Are we gonna box, or are you just gonna make googly eyes at Rogers?"

"Ha, very funny," Tony replies dryly and, before Happy can even see it coming, swings his foot around to sweep his legs out from underneath him.

When he looks back again to call to Steve, the door is already swinging shut.

* * *

The final time it doesn't even matter, because Steve picks up on whatever it is that's hesitantly blooming between them.

"Sir, the time is now a quarter to two in the morning. Don't you think it would be wise to rest?"

"JARVIS, I'm a little busy here." Tony doesn't remove his gaze from the delicate task of reattaching a wire in his suit, but he's pretty sure that if the AI could sigh, he would have.

It's a surprise to have JARVIS repeat himself, but repeat himself he does, a slightly more imperious tone in that polite voice of his. "Are you quite sure, sir? You could benefit from taking even a short break; 'recharge your batteries', so to speak."

Tony snorts. "Nice one," he mutters under his breath, and then louder, "How long have I been down here?"

"Forty-five hours."

That's nothing. Tony's spent longer working continuously before. Then again, he'd just come back from a mission when he disappeared into the workshop, and he hadn't seen another human since. Heaving a sigh, Tony sits back on his heels, shaking out his numb arms. "Fine. Run another diagnosis on the suit while I'm out, check if there's anything else that needs doing."

"Of course, sir." There's a pause, and then, "Thank you for following my advice. My suggestions is only in your best interests."

Tony grunts in reply. Pushing himself to his feet, he drops the various tools that had been littered around him on a nearby table. While he waits for the elevator to arrive, he wipes his oil-stained hands on his jeans, which already have blackened patches.

He should probably change as well. A hesitant sniff at his shirt turns this thought into a firm decision. A shower would be a good idea too, but a loud growl from his stomach commands food first.

Only, his plan of action kind of gets blown to smithereens the moment he sets foot in the living room/kitchen area the Avengers share. Really, Tony should've seen this coming.

Steve is curled on the sofa, watching TV. The lights have been dimmed, so there's a faint blue glow on Steve's face – and Tony _really doesn't _think about comparing it to the mental picture of the arc reactor doing the same. Tony clears his throat, and Steve glances up, surprise flickering over his features. A warm smile quickly follows, one that makes something flutter in Tony's stomach.

It was just hunger that did it. Yeah, of course.

"Hey, Cap," Tony says, nodding at him. He ducks into the small kitchen to make himself some toast. "Didn't think you'd be up."

"I don't need to sleep as much," he says by way of an explanation. "I thought I'd maybe try to catch up on some television."

That's… a little sad, actually. And sort of sweet, in a weird way. Tony hasn't really thought about how much Steve has missed in the time he was frozen – it's about the only thing he hasn't thought about Steve recently – so he makes a mental note to arrange a movie night so he can see some of the classic comedies of the last few years.

Just as he's running through a list of films in his head, the toaster springs and produces Tony's toast (it's only a light golden colour, he doesn't like it too crunchy), so he turns to get a plate-

-only to walk straight into Steve's chest. Tony jumps about a foot in the air and only just manages to stifle a very undignified squawk. Once he's controlled himself, it's a matter of ignoring the frantic beating of his heart; it can't be good for his health.

How the hell did he manage to sneak up on him?

"Sorry," Steve apologises, taking a hasty step back. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

"Not a problem, Cap," Tony says, waving it off with a hand. "You're like a damn cat. How do you manage to be so sneaky?"

Steve's cheeks tinge a little pink, but either he doesn't notice or he ignores it. "Clint and Natasha gave me a lesson on stealth; they said I wasn't exactly being a shadow on missions when I needed to be."

The thought of Captain America creeping up on a bad guy, fully suited-up with his shield in his hand, instead of just throwing it like a frisbee like he normally does, makes Tony snigger. Steve frowns and takes another step back. "What?"

"Nothing, don't worry," Tony chortles. He weaves around Steve to reach the various cupboards, where he collects the various pieces he needs: a plate, a knife and the tub of butter. "Just something I remembered, not important."

He can pretty much hear Steve's frown deepen as he returns to the cooling bread. Tony's lips tremble with the effort not to spread into a grin. "Right," Steve mumbles. For a moment the only sound is the scrape of the knife over the toast. Soon, however, Steve breaks the silence, albeit hesitantly.

"Uh, Tony, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

There's a brief pause before Tony moves onto the second slice of toast. "What's up?"

"I was…" Steve takes a deep breath before trying again. "I was wondering if you would like to go out on a date. With me."

Tony freezes and then, very deliberately, he puts the knife down and turns to face Steve.

He can see the flicker of worry in his bright eyes – _oh gosh, did I misinterpret things, did I get it wrong, does he feel differently?_ – and he can almost feel the walls that Steve is building up, ready for Tony's apparently inevitable rejection. Like one of Tony's machines Steve is shutting down, protecting himself from pain.

But then Tony realises that this is something he wants, something he's wanted for a while, in fact. This is what's been behind those accidental moments they've had here and there, the little glances where one looks at the other and finds he's already watching.

He can't let Steve slip through his fingers.

"Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

The change in Steve's face is immediate. The half-built walls crumble, and hesitant happiness relaxes his features. There's a slight curve to his lips that hints at a hopeful smile. "It's not exactly going to be an expensive restaurant or anything-"

"That'd be boring and very different to what I imagine a date with you would be like."

"-but I was thinking maybe we could go for a picnic when the weather's nice?"

The idea is… it's just so…

_So Steve._

It's perfect.

Tony tells him so, and that's when Steve properly lights up. He could be a damn Christmas tree on the 25th of December his smile is so bright. Almost carefully, as if Tony is something precious and fragile, Steve enfolds him in his arms and tugs him into a hug.

The taller man is warm, cuddly and soft, almost like a teddy bear. His face tucks into the billionaire's messy hair, and Tony swears he can feel the faint impression of Steve's lips on his scalp. Tony only misses a beat because of his surprise, but he soon returns Steve's hold, resting his cheek on his broad shoulder.

Tony finds that the toast has gone cold and dry when they finally break apart.

* * *

It's a warm, sunny Wednesday when Steve takes Tony for that picnic. Of course Tony is noticed, but thankfully it's a weekday, so those few that recognise him merely give him a passing glance; they have places to be, work to do, people to speak to. Tony can remember the pull of being busy, and then the small prick of guilt when he ignored it that was soon buried under the haze of alcohol, the reciprocated lust from women and, sometimes, the thrill of gambling.

Now that Stark Industries is in Pepper's hands, Tony doesn't need to worry about that now. He hasn't been drunk enough to have gaps in his memory in a while, there haven't been any women in a long time (the last was, in fact, Pepper herself), and putting ridiculous amounts of money on the line is a distant memory.

The cradling heat of the sun on his face is relaxing, as is the feel of Steve's big hand curled around his. The picnic basket swings freely from Steve's other arm, and Tony can't help but compare this to dates that must be more familiar in Steve's time: the war hero and his pretty sweetheart back at home, reunited for a brief time before he has to head out and fight again.

For all of the work that Tony has done for the war, despite everything that he's read about Captain America, he doesn't actually know what it was like – what it _is_ like, for some people. He doesn't have any desire to either, and whether that's selfish of him or just a wish for blissful ignorance, he doesn't know.

Tony wonders if this park is the same as Steve remembers, or if he's just been here a lot since he was freed; he seems to know his way around with ease, as he leads Tony along the paths to a particular patch of grass. It's in the shade of a tree that's bright green with summer leaves, but near enough to the sun's rays for it to be warm. Steve throws out the square blanket and sits, patting the space on the wool next to him with a warm smile.

Tony had never been on this kind of date. With Pepper it had been nights in with movies, and before that it had been expensive meals, fine wine and, if he was lucky, a trip to a nearby hotel and an early leave.

He can't imagine doing the latter to Steve; his stomach rolls uncomfortably at the thought.

Steve leans back on one hand, the arm to the side to allow Tony to sit in the circle of it, and roots around in the basket with the other. He produces sandwiches wrapped in cellophane, and Tony smiles – admittedly, they look a little squished, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

As they eat, they talk of normal things: the weather, the people around them, Tony's inventions and Steve's hesitant return to drawing. After the sandwiches are all gone, Tony begins explaining a new system he's been working on for contact during missions for the Avengers – how they ended up at the team again, he doesn't know; this is supposed to be about him and Steve – and it's only then that he hears the soft _scritch_ of pencil on paper.

A quick glance to his right confirms that Steve is indeed drawing. A second makes him blink in surprise; not only is Steve drawing, Steve is drawing _Tony._

It's not complete – even Tony, someone who can only sketch blueprints, not complex lines and shading, can see that. It's him from Steve's point of view, clearly deep in discussion; he must have started when Tony was attempting to get across just what he was doing in the workshop, because there's an eager light in his eyes, and his hands are in the air in front of him, as if the tools are right there but invisible.

Tony notices that flush creeping onto Steve's cheeks again as he flips the sketchpad shut. "Sorry," he murmurs, slipping the pad and pencil back into the basket. "You just looked so…" When he struggles to find a word, he skips over it. "I wanted to get that expression down on paper."

"No, it- it's fine." Tony finds himself stumbling over his words and wow, when did that last happen? Probably when he was last utterly _hammered_; he's usually so smooth.

Steve's cheeks only brighten further, and Tony has to admit that it's adorable. "I was listening at the same time."

"Hey." Tony catches Steve's hand and laces their fingers together, giving them a gentle squeeze. When did he become so… _smitten_? Tony wonders. "If you want to draw me, that's cool. You've got talent, Cap, you can't just ignore it. That'd be like me shutting up the workshop."

Steve rolls his eyes. "God forbid you stop working," he teases.

"The hours I work are perfectly fine, I think you'll find."

"Really, Tony? I beg to differ."

They continue to trade lightly barbed comments – all in good humour, of course – until the sun starts to set, casting an orange glow over the park. Steve herds Tony back onto his feet so he can pack up ("Ever the gentleman," Tony mutters, and Steve gives him 'a Look'), and Tony slips back into his usual self: easygoing, laidback and just on the polite side of flirtatious. He shamelessly admires Steve's backside, and when he catches him looking he lightly taps Tony on the arm and chastises him.

Naturally, Tony simply grins at Steve.

It's only when they're back at Stark Tower – also the home of the Avengers – that they stop smiling like fools long enough to acknowledge the date itself.

Standing in the shared living room, hand still clasped in Steve's, Tony clears his throat and says, "So, uh, thanks for today, Cap. It was surprisingly fun."

"Surprising because of us going on a date, or surprising because of the picnic idea?" Steve asks with a smile, eyebrows raised.

Tony chuckles, "The second one." He pauses, stifles a yawn – when did he get tired? – and begins to draw away. "I guess I'd better go and get some sleep. I was working before-"

And hey,_ look there_: another surprise.

Steve silenced him by pressing his lips to Tony's.

For a moment, Tony is like a statue, just like when Steve asked him out in the first place. And, also reminiscent of that time, Tony soon loosens and returns the kiss. It's how expects a first kiss from Steve: gentle, polite, not too demanding, but also enough to leave an impression. It lasts the perfect amount of time, but how long that is, Tony doesn't have a clue. For once, his brilliant brain has shut down in favour of actually taking a break to smell the roses.

It occurs to Tony that he hadn't been intending on kissing Steve on this date, which is a first for him. Usually, that's all he sets out for. But he realises he doesn't just want quick relief from him; he's tentatively hoping for this relationship to go on for longer, to maybe even last.

Hell, Tony never wants to let Steve go, and that's a terrifying thought.

When Steve draws back, there's that hesitant smile on his lips again, the one that makes Tony's insides melt with the warmth that blooms in them. "So… are we a thing?" he asks, and Steve's eyes sparkle with amusement and just a hint of fear.

Tony wants to get rid of that fear. He wants Steve to be comfortable with him, which is a hell of an ask, but in this case he's a terrier: once he's grabbed onto an idea, he's not going to let it go.

"If you want us to be," Steve says, arms still around Tony. They're settled comfortably around his waist, fitting perfectly into place like they were meant to rest there.

Tony doesn't even pause. He nods, pecking Steve's lips again. "We're a thing."

* * *

They decide not to tell anyone. While they both want this 'thing', as Tony so elegantly called it, to last, they know better than to put it out in the open while it's still young. The two of them agree to give it time to settle, to take root in them and make itself at home before they even breathe a word of it aloud.

And Tony can't deny, the thrill of the secret makes it even better.

He has to admit, it's helpful to have JARVIS on their side. Instead of passing notes like teenagers, they can send messages through the AI – naturally, JARVIS makes a few neat little jabs about this towards Tony, but he's so blissfully happy about the whole thing that he lets them slide with only a couple of friendly threats.

Bruce finds out by accident, but it isn't a problem.

He and Bruce are in the lab at Stark Tower one day, simply messing around with chemicals for kicks. Every so often Tony helps Bruce to relax a little – God knows the guy needs it – and treats him like a human being instead of tiptoeing around him like everyone else seems to do. He sees in the glances Bruce sends his way during these times that he appreciates it, even if he never says anything.

Bruce has stepped out to change his shirt, which got splashed with acid in one of Tony's more clumsy/excitable moments, when Steve slips into the lab. Well, not so much 'slips' as 'wanders in like he's not coming to see his secret boyfriend'.

He does slip an arm around Tony's waist though, and drop a kiss on his temple.

"What are you doing?" Tony asks, but it's not accusatory; it's amused, and he pokes Steve in the ribs at the same time.

"I asked JARVIS where you were," he replies with a shrug. "I was wondering, did you have any more film recommendations-"

"Oh."

They glance over their shoulders in unison to see Bruce standing in the doorway, a new, acid-free shirt on. His lips are pressed together, but it's clear he's fighting to hold back a smile. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I can go if you…?"

"No, it's fine." Tony rolls with it, hoping to just smooth it over, maybe pass it off as something overly friendly, but he can already tell that Steve isn't willing to follow along with this. The resigned look on his face alerts him to this.

"You won't tell anyone, will you, Bruce?" Steve frowns, worry lining his features.

Tony drops his face into his palm. "We could've let it blow over," he mutters to himself.

"Oh, of course not." Bruce does smile then, a little, honest one that is just so _Bruce_. "Not if you guys want to keep it to yourselves. Congratulations, though."

"Thanks." Tony returns his smile, albeit a little awkwardly, then nudges Steve with his elbow. "Go on, go ask JARVIS for a movie. He'll give you a list of my favourites."

"Alright." Steve gives him a quick one-armed squeeze before letting Tony go and heading for the door. "Don't blow anything up!"

"I would never." Tony places his hand over the arc reactor, an affronted tone in his voice. He lets the act drop once Steve has left, and instead casts a glance at Bruce.

His friend still has that tiny smile on his face. Tony can't help but trust that smile. He dives back into the mess they were making, and Bruce, bless him, only makes one comment on the interruption: as Tony passes him a flask of hydrochloric acid, Bruce quietly says, "It's about time you two got your act together."

* * *

And it works, for a while. Bruce keeps his silence, as he promised, and he proves to be a pretty good actor. Even when he catches one of the accidental glances Tony and Steve can't help but cast each other's way, his gaze slides past like nothing unusual happened.

Really, Tony needs to give the guy a medal one of these days.

They're also much more careful about their actions, but in the end it doesn't matter; all their efforts are futile when there are two trained assassins in the building who have a bet on them.

But to be fair, it _is_ the middle of the night when everyone's usually asleep, which is normally when Tony and Steve spend time with each other as a couple instead of friends. They lean against each other on the sofa, Steve's arm over Tony's shoulders, while some film that Steve hasn't seen yet plays on the large TV. Tony prefers to watch Steve's face during them rather than the movie itself; he's always so engrossed, paying so much attention to the plot that it's fascinating seeing the range of emotions playing out across his features.

It's far better than any film could be.

And, afterwards, there's always a note-so-chaste kiss before Steve heads off to bed and Tony goes back to his workshop (or, on the rare occasion, crashes in his room). It's during one of these after-movie kisses that the Avengers discover them – or, more accurately, they discover the Avengers.

Neither of them hear the tremble of barely secure vents overhead, as they're too caught up in each other, but there's no way they could miss the clang as it falls, or the thud of someone landing on top of it. There's a hissed curse from the body on the ground, and the sound of scuttling overhead in the tunnel of metal as someone makes a hasty exit.

Pulling himself out of Tony's python-like hold - he's surprisingly strong, but it's nothing Steve can't break out of, much to Tony's chagrin - Steve peers over the back of the sofa, the flush that had gathered on his cheeks draining away. Tony sighs, disappointed. He'll easily be able to get that blush back, but probably not tonight.

"C-Clint!" Steve casts an anxious look Tony's way and firmly shakes him off. Tony lets his hand drop from Steve's shoulder with a scowl.

"Oh, come on, Cap," Tony mutters petulantly, dropping onto his back on the sofa, "you know just as well as I do what he was doing up there." Louder, he says, "You're a pervert, Clint! Hoping to get an eyeful, were you?"

Clint snorts from the floor. "No thanks. I was proving a point, actually."

"Really? What point?"

The assassin's face appears over the back of the sofa, and Steve sits back on his heels, still looking uneasy. "That Natasha owes me twenty bucks."

Before he can elaborate, three sets of footsteps approach the living room door, no doubt called by the racket the air vent made as Clint's hiding place fell to pieces.

First Thor bounds in, dressed only in the sheet around his waist and holding his trusty hammer, looking for the danger he must've mistaken the noise for. Second is Natasha, the image of nonchalant, wrapped in a dressing gown and raising a single eyebrow at the sight before her – Tony and Steve looking ruffled, Clint wearing a shit-eating grin. And, finally, there's Bruce, following after them in his pyjamas and looking caught between embarrassment and horror.

"I fucking told you!" Clint crows, pointing at Natasha.

"I didn't say anything, I swear!" Bruce says, almost frantic. "It's not like you guys were being exactly secretive!" he adds, gesturing at the two of them and then the living room in general. "You have your own rooms, you know!"

"Cut us some slack," Tony grumbles, folding his arms. "You were all meant to be out cold."

It takes a moment, but when Thor catches on everyone knows. He booms a hearty laugh, then places his weapon on the floor to stride over and clap the two of them on the shoulders – Tony winces, but Steve doesn't even flinch. "What a happy occasion it is! We have all been waiting for the day when you would finally come together! It has been obvious for far too long, my friends."

By now, Tony doesn't have to worry about getting Steve's blush back, because it's already burning furiously on his cheeks. He stays silent, averting his gaze and leaving Tony to deal with the situation.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. "Obvious? And there we thought we were being subtle."

"Nice try," Natasha smirks.

"Ooh!" Clint cackles, gripping the back of the sofa to stay up on his knees. "Fury's gonna castrate you, Tony!"

"How is this _my fault_? Cap's the one that set this whole thing in motion!"

"Gee, thanks, Tony. Lump all the blame on me, why don't you?"

"Sorry, Cap, you know I don't mean that."

While Clint is actually curled on the floor now with laughter, Natasha purses her lips to keep from joining him, Bruce politely excuses himself to spare them any extra embarrassment, and Thor just keeps on grinning widely at them.

Tony resigns himself to no more time alone with Steve tonight.

* * *

They have to wait until morning to face Fury. Steve actually manages to sleep – how he can be so unconcerned about the entire ordeal, Tony doesn't know. Once the initial surprise wore off, Steve curled up on the sofa, his head in Tony's lap, and drifted off.

Tony, meanwhile, had to sit there and endure Clint's glances, complete with raised eyebrows, and Thor's tales of how such occasions would be treated on Asgard. Natasha conveniently forgot to give Clint his twenty dollars, not that the idiot noticed with all of the snide comments he was making about Tony and Steve.

In the end, Tony tuned him out and combed his fingers through Steve's hair.

Standing up to the full force of Fury's stare has never been Tony's favourite thing, and it's even worse when he's stood there in pyjama bottoms and a loose fitting t-shirt. Somehow, Steve escaped and quickly changed before they were called in.

Lucky bastard.

While they're sat there, waiting for Fury to speak, Tony lets his gaze wander about his office to give himself the illusion of not being in trouble. Steve, however, sits straight in his chair, hands folded in his lap and eyes fixed on Fury's face. It isn't until Fury quietly but firmly says "Stark" that Tony realises they're all waiting on him. Reluctantly, he looks at Fury.

His face is a careful mask of nothing. He leans forward until he can clasp his hands on his desk, glancing between the two of them, and then sighs. "How long?"

"A couple of months, sir," Steve instantly replies. Tony raises his eyebrows. Honestly, he hadn't been paying that much attention to the time that slipped by. He'd simply been going about life as normal, with the added benefit of Steve as a partner.

Fury raises one eyebrow. "You kept it between yourselves for that long?"

"We were careful," Steve explains. He casts a glance at Tony, but when he doesn't offer even the slightest indication of wishing to join the conversation, Steve adds, "We wanted to test it, see if it was going to work between us. We didn't want to create an upheaval in the team, only to have it backfire later on."

Tony snorts, but doesn't elaborate.

"I can't deny that that was a valid decision," Fury admits, nodding. He sighs slowly through his nose, eye narrowing.

Tony wonders, not for the first time, if Fury actually needs the eye patch.

"You two listen to me now." Flattening his hands on the table, Fury takes on the tone that means he won't take any crap from anyone. Tony grits his teeth against it, but knows better than to interrupt. "Oh, don't look so nervous; I'm not gonna tell you to split."

Tony can feel Steve relax next to him, but he doesn't let the tension drain from his frame. He sees Fury notice this, watches him take it in, acknowledges that he's not going to comment. "I won't stop you from doing this – you're both grown men, you can make your own decisions – _but_ _don't let it affect the team._ In the field, you are still Iron Man and Captain America, teammates first; when you're Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, you can be whoever the hell you wanna be. I don't care if you're having a lovers' spat or if you're on your God damn honeymoon, when you're on the field you're about the mission. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly." Steve nods, a smile spreading across his lips. "Thank you, sir. We won't let you down."

Tony thinks Steve's acting like the relationship itself is a mission now, but he doesn't say that.

When they stand, Tony can hear the muttered "You're good for him" Fury says in Steve's ear during their handshake. For Steve, that must be like approval from Tony's father (which it clearly isn't, but Tony ignores that fact). He leaves Fury's office with a pleased smile.

Tony's just about to follow when Fury's hand lands on his shoulder. "Stark," he says, more gently this time.

He turns, expression expectant but arms crossed. Fury chuckles quietly. "I'm not gonna bite your head off; at ease, soldier."

Tony doesn't move a muscle.

Fury rolls his eyes. "A word of advice: don't screw this up. You and Rogers are a damn good pair if I ever saw one. I'd hate for you to slip up on this one."

In the face of the oddly happy feeling spreading through his chest, Tony goes on the lightly humoured offensive. He holds out his arms and protests, "Why does everyone assume it'll be me?"

"You've got history, Stark," Fury laughs, eye glinting.

"Technically, so has he, but not the kind you're talking of."

"Nice try," he says wryly. "Now go on. Someone's waiting out there for you, and you really don't wanna miss him."

Steve's stood in the hallway, a great big grin on his face. He sweeps Tony into a hug before the door's even closed behind him – he can imagine Fury's quietly amused expression as it shuts.

"That went better than expected," Tony comments, draping his arms around Steve's neck.

"It wasn't exactly a battle, Tony," he laughs.

"Might as well have been, from the way you were acting, Captain."

"Oh, shush." A kiss lands on Tony's cheek, making him smile.

Tony tilts his face up to butt Steve's chin with the top of his head. "On the bright side, we've only got the team to deal with now. I hope you're ready for Clint's innuendos." Wincing, Steve lets his head fall forward onto Tony's shoulder. "Does that mean you're gonna blush more? I love it when you blush. A blush looks good on you, Cap, that's why I try and make it happen so often."

"I hate you," Steve mumbles.

"Love you, too."

Tony pauses. Rewinds what he just said in his head. Lets it play through again.

He notices the way Steve's breath has caught in his throat, and how he's lifted his head again to read Tony's expression.

Tony finds himself unable to speak. He doesn't want to take the words back, because he knows he meant them, but maybe it was too early for Steve. He's well aware that Steve wants to take things slow, but surely declarations of love aren't on the list of 'Things To Go Slow With'?

Steve effectively shuts Tony's brain up by pressing their mouths together firmly but, sadly, briefly. "I love you," he eventually breathes, as if he's the first to say the words instead of Tony.

How backwards they are. Tony should've initiated the first kiss, but Steve did; Steve should've said 'I love you' first, but Tony did, albeit by accident.

But Tony can only smile and repeat himself – "Love you, too, Cap" – and pull Steve back down for another kiss.


End file.
